Free Just a Little Reminder by Tracie Puckett Page A

“Do you want to talk about—”
    “What are you doing here, Julie?” he asked again, this time turning around to look at me.
    I couldn’t tell if the red flushing in his cheeks stemmed from sadness or anger, but either way I figured it was best to just cut to the chase. Provoking an angry Little was like provoking an angry bear.
    “I just needed to use the bathroom,” I said, nodding to the bags on my side. “Just wanted a quick bath, that’s all.”
    Matt eyed the bags on my arm. A sympathetic smile crossed his lips for only a brief second, and then he nodded.
    “First door at the top of the steps,” he said, nodding at the staircase behind me. “Dad and Bruno are at the station, so no hurry.”
    I squinted at him, wondering what he could’ve possibly meant by no hurry . Was there a reason why I should’ve been in a hurry?
    Reading into my expression, Matt shrugged.
    “I’m just telling you to take your time, Julie,” he said. “Do what you need to do, and you’ll have plenty of time to get back to Luke’s before anyone knows you were ever here.”
    Matt managed a simple smile, but I could see that it hurt him to muster even that much.
    I didn’t have to question how Matt knew I’d stayed with Luke. He knew me too well. If not Kara’s, then Luke’s. Simple as that.
    “Thanks,” I said, matching his half-smile.
    I turned and headed for the stairs, but I looked back to my cousin before I took a single step up toward the second floor.
    “Mattie,” I said, clearing my throat. He turned back and looked at me, and the faintest layer of moisture rested at the bottom of his eyes. Seeing the sadness creep further to the surface, I dropped my bags on the floor and returned to the living room. I approached him cautiously, unsure as to whether or not he’d take kindly to my closeness. I knelt down on the floor next to the couch, reached forward to take his clammy hand, and held his fingers tight beneath mine.
    I expected him to pull away, but he only held on with the same strength that I held him. A single tear dropped to his cheek, and I dropped my head forward and shed a few of my own.
    I didn’t know what to say.
    I could’ve given him a speech about how I’d been in his shoes a hundred times before. I could’ve told him that I’ve been in that place where you think all is lost, and it feels like there’s no way that it’s ever going to get better. I could’ve gone on for hours about the future and how all he needed was a little faith to know that things would get better.
    But that’s not what he needed.
    So I held his hand and cried with him… for the next three hours.
     
     
    Thursday, June 06 | 5:00 p.m.
    I found Luke on the couch leaning over a pile of bills and other random junk mail. He’d transformed the coffee table into a makeshift desk; there was a spread of papers (color-coded and labeled), paper clips, a stapler, a calculator, and an electronic label maker.
    He looked up as I came in, but only long enough to force a smile around the ink pen pressed between his lips.
    “Hey,” I said, hanging my purse on a nearby coatrack.
    “Hey, kid,” he said, pulling the pen out of his mouth. He looked back down at his paperwork for a moment, and then he started sifting through the colored paperclips. He eventually found the one he’d been looking for—baby blue—and then looked back up to me. “Good day?”
    Hmm… good question.
    After trying to (unsuccessfully) talk myself into a shower and ending up at Bruno’s, I spent the better part of the morning talking and crying with Matt; listening to him talk about his heartache had been just as emotionally taxing as living through a break-up of my own.
    Matt fell asleep on the couch sometime after two o’clock, and it was only after I was certain he was sleeping soundly that I finally went upstairs and enjoyed a long, long, long, hot bath. Bruno’s bathroom—I remembered vividly—was just as clean as Luke’s, and that made me feel a